


A Quick Interlude

by spnblargh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon verse, M/M, Post 8x17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 01:38:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnblargh/pseuds/spnblargh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic Prompt: Dean's reaction when Cas finally returns after running away from the crypt with the angel tablet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Quick Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Fic prompt suggested by euphemology.

“You gonna tell me what the hell happened?”

Castiel woke up a few minutes ago. Dean’s itching to go over to him and shake answers out of him. Castiel, who’s been virtually comatose and lying on Dean’s bed since yesterday, hasn’t spared him a look since his eyes snapped open. Dean’s almost ready to start breaking things, his patience stretched to its limit.

Finally, a miracle: “I don’t really understand it myself.” Castiel’s voice is rougher than normal, strained - but Dean’s shoulders relax just slightly.

Castiel still isn’t looking at him, though. Instead, he’s staring resolutely at the blank ceiling, and Dean finally loses his patience. He pushes off the wall and sits heavily beside Castiel, the mattress bouncing.

“Well let me fill you in on what I know,” Dean says through gritted teeth. “You take the angel tablet, zip off to god-knows-where for weeks, then show up on the front step of our hideout, out cold. No injuries whatsoever.” Dean grips Castiel’s closest shoulder, fingers tightening on the trench coat and tugging roughly. Castiel finally offers him his attention. “You got anything you wanna add?”

Castiel inhales deeply, closing his eyes. “Where is the tablet?”

“Downstairs,” he huffs. “With Sam. Kevin’ll be over soon to start translating it.”

Castiel nods then opens his eyes, staring unblinkingly at Dean. “You’re angry.”

“You’re damn right I am.” Dean stands, walks towards the door, raking a hand over his face, before spinning around to look at him. “I gotta be honest, Cas - I’m just about done with you not being honest with me.”

“Dean-“

“I was honest with you, you ass,” he growls. His thoughts return to the crypt and the way the words I need you had echoed around the dark chamber. “But you haven’t been honest with me since, what? Purgatory? And even then-“

“I haven’t been myself,” Castiel interrupts, his tone defensive but nevertheless remorseful. “And I-I don’t…I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Doesn’t cut it, man.” Dean takes a few steps closer, arms crossed over his chest like a barrier. “Sorry doesn’t cut it, you understand?”

Castiel’s eyes flicker back to the ceiling, as if it has all the answers. Castiel looks tired, stretched thin, and Dean can empathise with that; knows what it’s like to be so goddamn exhausted, but hey, welcome to the real world. Castiel takes several deep breaths before saying, “What do you want me to do?”

His voice is quiet, gentle. Dean feels his rage dissipate, and that’s when the fear in the back of his mind starts to take over: "Does Cas even give a damn about you? You tell him you need him and he doesn’t care. The tablet’s probably rewired his brain and the old Cas is gone, long gone. Cas hasn’t been himself since the Apocalypse. You still care about him though, huh? You love the guy, huh? You need him? He’s an angel. Angels don’t care; they try and it breaks them apart."

“It’s…” Dean swallows roughly. “It’s not about you doing anything, Cas. I just want you here.”

“To help with the tablets?”

Dean lets out an exasperate breath. “No, man, I-well, yeah, I guess, but I don’t care if you can help, Cas! It’s not about how useful you are, okay? You just, to me, you’re-” He turns away, looking through the doorway out onto the landing, contemplating all the ways he could fuck up this conversation even more.

“You said that you needed me.”

Dean’s heart rate triples. His hands clench into fists. “Yeah.” His jaw clenches, his teeth aching. “That’s right.”

The silence that follows is thick with tension. His fingernails are pressed deeply into his palms, stinging. Dean’s fear of rejection hums between them.

Castiel’s voice is extraordinarily soft when he says, “I understand.”


End file.
